Chapter 1

November 2, 1983

The night light in the nursery flickered.

The clock stopped.

With every occupant of the house asleep, all was still
and silent. It was time.

A stranger with yellow eyes stepped out from the shadows and
moved to stand over the crib. He looked down at the sleeping infant,
contemplating the future this child could have, the great honour that awaited
him should he be the one that was Chosen. The baby was so weak, so helplessly
human, but he was here to change that.

"Wakey, wakey, Sam," he crooned.

Blinking bleary eyes open to see to an unfamiliar face
looming over him in the darkness, little Sammy started to cry.

Across the hall in his parents' bedroom, his cries could
be heard through the baby monitor. His mother woke easily, accustomed to having
her rest disrupted, and had almost resigned herself to getting out of bed when
she remembered what day it was.

November 2nd. She knew the date because Sammy was born on
May 2nd and that meant he was six months old today. It was a milestone, and she
couldn't believe her little boy was growing up so fast.

But it was November 2nd, 1983, and Mary had been marking that date in her calendar for 10
years.

Ever since a mysterious young hunter, who claimed his
father was a psychic, had given her a warning. He told her, when this day came,
not to get out of bed no matter what she might hear or see.

It was crazy to listen to the supposedly prophetic word
of a man she didn't even know. He had turned up out of the blue and calamity
had struck her family soon after. Her parents were murdered and she nearly lost
John as well. The stranger had been there for the worst day of her life and
then she never saw him again. But there was something about him, something
strangely familiar like a half-remembered dream, something in his eyes that
make her trust him inexplicably. He had given her the warning knowing it would
sounds nuts, and she might have dismissed it if it had not been for the tears
glistening in his eyes. He looked as though he genuinely cared about her and
didn't want her to get hurt.

Even so, 10 years was a long time. She might have
forgotten about the obscure warning from a stranger. But she could never forget
that this year was the 10 year anniversary of the demon deal she had made to
save John's life. Put two and two together and Mary had every reason to believe
her life, her soul, was in danger.

She wished she could put protective salt lines along
every door and window, but that would be welching out on the deal. If she
didn’t keep her end of the bargain, John would drop dead. She would rather die
herself than lose him.

Mary just hoped that the demon had been telling the
truth; that no one would get hurt as long as he was uninterrupted in whatever
he was coming here to do.

She knew she couldn’t trust a demon. But she had no other
choice.

So she stayed in bed, and prayed that angels were
watching over her family.

Sammy kept crying.

Normally, the baby's cries did not disturb his older
brother. Four-year-old Dean had been distressed by them at first, but his mom
had explained that little babies needed to eat more often than big kids did and
crying during the night was just Sammy's way of saying he was hungry. She told
Dean she would take care of it and he could just turn over and go back to
sleep. He was used to it now; he would listen for the sound of a door opening
and his mother's soft footsteps across the landing, and he would smile and
drift off again because he knew Sammy was being looked after.

But this time he never heard his mom get up, and Sammy
kept crying.

He tossed and turned restlessly, not quite conscious but
unable to go back to sleep either. An odd twisty feeling in his tummy was
telling him that something was wrong.

Eventually his big brother instincts won out over his
sleepiness and Dean tumbled out of bed to go see what all the fuss was about.

Out in the hallway, Dean could hear noises coming from
the TV downstairs and guessed that his parents were watching a not-for-kids
movie together. Maybe that's why they couldn't hear Sammy. He thought about
going to get them, but Mom said he was a good little helper and he wanted to
prove her right. He could go in and sing ‘Hey Jude’ to Sammy until he stopped
crying. Mom would be so proud of him.

He pushed open the door to the nursery and was startled
to see that his Dad was already in there.

"Oops," Dean said. He knew he was about to get
in trouble for being out of bed this late.

His Dad turned around to tell him to go back to his room-

-but it wasn’t his Dad.

Dean stepped back in alarm. “Who are you?”

The man smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Howdy, Dean.
Good to see you again.”

“I don’t know you.”

“Oh, we go way back, you and I.”

Dean didn’t believe him, but sometimes Mommy said he
didn’t remember people because he was only little when he met them. “Why you in
here?”

“Your mommy invited me.”

Dean frowned. His mom never said anything about having a
visitor over, and he didn’t think she would let this man go into Sammy’s
nursery when he was sleeping. Besides, he didn’t like the way the man was
smiling at him. It was scary.

“I’m gonna get Daddy,” Dean said, backing away with every
intention of running downstairs. But then he glanced towards the crib and knew
he couldn’t leave Sammy alone with the scary man who – who had a knife glinting in his pocket.

Dean sucked in a deep lungful of air to scream-

-but all the breath was knocked out of him as an
invisible force jerked him across the room and slammed him against the wall.

“Sorry, Dean, I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

Dean fought to get free but the invisible force was too
strong, and he was sliding upwards, the floor getting further and further away.
He didn’t like heights. He tried to scream again, but no sound came out.

Although Dean struggled frantically, there was nothing he
could do as the man pulled out the knife. He knew he was supposed to be a big
boy now but he couldn’t help the frightened tears that welled up in his eyes. He
didn’t want Sammy to be hurt. Sammy was just a baby, he needed his big brother
to protect him, but Dean couldn’t. He
wanted his Daddy to burst into the room and save the day, but Daddy wasn’t
coming because he didn’t know there was a bad man here and Dean was still
screaming as loud as he could but no one could hear him.

The man dragged the knife over his own arm, drawing
blood. Dean didn’t understand why the man would hurt himself like that, or why
he was holding his arm out over the crib to let the blood drip into Sammy’s
mouth. He tried to tell Sammy not to drink it, but his words weren’t working
and the baby swallowed the red juice because he was only little and he didn’t
know better.

“There now. You grow up big and strong, Sammy Winchester.
When you’re ready, I’ll be back to get you. Big plans for you, kiddo. Big
plans.”

Dean didn’t know what the man meant but he didn’t like
it. He tried to scream at the bad man to leave his brother alone, but the bad
man had magic powers that had stuck him to the wall and stolen his voice. He
couldn’t move, or speak, or doing anything. He was trapped. Helpless.

The man turned to look at him. Dean was so high up the
wall now that he could look directly into the bad man’s eyes.

They were yellow.

“Now, what am I to do with you, Dean? I can’t have you
blabbing to mommy about what you’ve seen, and I can’t let you grow up to be the
one who kills me. Of course, you don’t look like much of a threat now, but
better safe than sorry.” He walked closer, raising the knife. Dean tried to
kick, wriggle, spit, anything, but his body wouldn’t listen, and the man kept
coming.

“Die slow, little one.”

The knife ripped into Dean’s stomach, and Dean’s soul screamed.

He barely felt the sensation of being dragged further up
the wall and onto the ceiling; all he knew was pain, excruciating,
all-encompassing pain – and Sammy. Because Sammy was staring up at him,
reaching tiny hands out to his brother like this was a game, and Dean’s blood
was going to drip down on him and Sammy was going to watch him die.

Help, Dean
whimpered soundlessly.

“Goodbye, Dean,” Yellow-eyes said.

He snapped his fingers and as he vanished the ceiling
burst into flames.

In that
instant, as the heat pressed in on him from all sides, Dean knew that his mom
was wrong. There were no angels watching over him.

He closed
his eyes and waited for the fire to swallow him.

But
instead of feeling his body burn up like the turkey Mom had left in the oven
too long last Thanksgiving, he felt the unmistakable and no less terrifying
sensation of falling, like the ceiling had suddenly decided to let him go. He
winced, bracing for the impact that would break him all to pieces.

Strong
arms caught him.

Saved.

"Daddy,"
Dean gasped, knowing that his hero had to be his Dad.

The terror
of his ordeal combined with intense relief from his last-second rescue were
suddenly too much for him to handle; Dean buried his face in his Dad's chest
and burst into tears. "My tummy hurts,
Daddy..."

"I am
not your father," a low voice rumbled.

Dean
froze, breath hitching in his throat. Had the yellow-eyed man come back? Was he
going to die after all?

"Do
not be afraid. You are safe now.”

It didn't
sound like the bad man. This voice was deeper, rougher, but it didn’t make his
skin crawl with hundreds of slimy ants like the bad man’s had. It was almost…
soothing.

“Who- who
are you?” he stammered against the stranger’s shirt, too scared to look at the
man directly. He didn’t want to see another monster.

"I'm
an Angel of the Lord."

“A angel?” Dean yelped, not sure he could
believe it. But he risked a glance up anyway.

Blue eyes
stared back at him.

"Hello
Dean."

He knew
that the polite response would be to say 'hello' back, but his curiosity got
the better of him. Brow furrowed in confusion as he looked his saviour up and
down, he asked, "If you're a angel, how come you don't got wings or a halo
or a funny dress?" He knew what angels were supposed to look like – he had
a statue of one in his room – and this man with messy brown hair, a backwards
tie and a big coat did not look anything like an angel.

"Humans
have many misperceptions about my kind," the man answered.

Dean
blinked at him.

He sighed.
"Of course. Dean Winchester does not believe in anything without proof.
But if I were not who I claimed to be, I would not be able to hold the demon's
inferno at bay.”

Dean’s
gaze flicked up to the ceiling and he saw that the flames had stopped moving,
like they had been frozen in place.

“Nor would
I be able to heal you." The man placed a hand gently over Dean's stomach
and with a bright flash of light the pain from his injury was gone.

Dean
pulled up his t-shirt. The knife had ripped apart his tummy and spilt a lot of
blood from inside, but there wasn’t even a scar. He was all better.

Filled
with awe, he looked back up at the angel who had fixed him without a Band-Aid.
It was definitely an angel. Mommy was
right after all. “Thanks Mr Angel.”

For the
first time, the angel’s face softened into the faintest hint of a smile. “My
name is Castiel.”

“C-Ca-Casti
– uh-” It was a tricky word and Dean couldn’t quite get his tongue around it.
“-Cas?”

“If you
prefer.”

Dean
grinned and hugged his new friend, wrapping his little arms around as much of
the angel as he could reach. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas didn’t
return the hug, but inclined his head solemnly. “You are welcome.”

Movement
overhead caught Dean’s attention. A flame had twitched, like it was trying to
wriggle free from the power keeping it trapped. “Uh, Cas…?”

The angel
looked up. “I cannot maintain this bubble of suspended time much longer. We
should not linger here.”

“It’s
gonna splode?”

“An
explosion is highly probable, yes. I will take you somewhere safe-”

“No,
wait!” Dean squirmed to be put down. “Sammy!” He ran over to the crib, relieved
to see that his little brother was okay. He was staring up at the slow-moving
fire like it was a mobile for him to play with; he wasn’t old enough yet to
know that fire was dangerous. Dean leaned in and tried to pick Sammy up but he
wasn’t strong enough.

The
angel’s arms reached past him and scooped up the bundle of baby and blanket
before setting Sam carefully in Dean’s arms.

“You wanted
to save your family,” Cas said. “This is your chance. Once you leave the bubble
you will not have long; you must make haste.”

Dean
nodded, cuddling his baby brother close.

“Your
mother is in her room. Your father is downstairs. Go now, Dean.”

Dean ran.
Behind him the fire roared to life, engulfing the ceiling of Sammy’s nursery.
The angel vanished.

SCarvajjjal17:
Hope you update sometime soon. There are many things I want to know what will happen. Like Emma’s friend and Leo will they end up together. Or Garrett and Lisa because I can see them together. Or is Danielle going to be a problem. Again hope you update soon.

Marcy:
You are nothing but a brilliant writer. You know how to get people's attention. I love reading this book I can't wait for the update. I hope their will be more soon. Can't get enough of your book's thanks soon mich for the time you put in these book's.

lutakomehindu:
lovely book,great writing skill,romantic ,good grammer and the novel is very interesting from start to end.wow .so so so nice.i loved the fact that the book had so money characters but every each character is well defined.its akind of book that u read and get yourself imagining like its kind o...

Bluebug25:
I like it so far. I really like biker stories and I like the strong female character that you have present early on. I have really on read up to starting chapter one so its reply hard for me to write a review, but I do like what I have read so far.

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